


Vacuous Attraction

by Kurxo



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, revised
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 02:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurxo/pseuds/Kurxo
Summary: Given a weak subset of alternatives, Kaon places himself at the mercy of Pharma.





	1. The Edges of Delphi

216 years.

216 years since Tarn awoke with a redefined purpose on Delphi. A purpose that would soon later gamble the weights of his team to bots considerate and bots unsatisfied. To Decepticons aged with morality and Decepticons bathed in red-tinted energon.

Kaon was found unable to gauge his sins. His weakness: defection. As chief intelligence officer, gifted upon the fleeing of Soundwave to Colony 13 “Earth”, Kaon had significant worth both alive and dead. His chassis alone could run up to 5 million shanix. Helm at least 6 million shanix with the right kind of selling pitch. Regardless of his physical value, the emotional investment the DJD, Tarn especially, had put within him costed time. Time and trust. Something consummated that was easily tossed aside with a few strokes of fear. Something he was sure the war-tank would rip the galaxy in half to retrieve back in energon. 

Standing on the familiar cold, snowy ground of Delphi, the torture-object tumbled against the adjustment of gravity. Having barely escaped the previous event, his systems blared failing sirens and error handling protocols. There wasn’t enough time to save himself that panic burned through his dermal plating. 

Oscillation destabilizing… 56.87 percent…  
Filter chambers breached… 67.34 percent working…  
Awareness map… 45.18 percent functional… Consider recalibration.

“No—Shut up!” he punched his fist against his chassis fan to stop the pinging messages. His systems flickered, soft rebooting before flashing even more messages. Defeated, Kaon dropped down the large entrance of what used to the Delphi Medical Facility. 

It wasn’t home. No where near home. It was the clearest memory he could pull from his failing memory module. Fond memories? They were warm. As if at some point it was appropriate to call the DJD a “family”. Nickel smiling up at him with her bright optics. Helex and Tesarus receiving sizable amounts of discipline for poor performance. Vos—Tarn—

The torture-bot lurched forward with sickness. Bitter emotion mixing with his systems reaching their break and shutting down. Parts of his frame were numb and fell dead against the cold opening where his spark chamber ached. The most he could do was stare at his reflection from the coolant pool he made on the floor. Ugly bot, he’d imagine. Even without optics, he could still cry.

“I thought—weeded you—” Hard, proud clicks on the floor.

“I should have—the DJD—Tarnishing everything that I—. “ A voice dripping with a confidence sneered at him.

Trying to locate the sound, his servos crawled the ground trying to sense the vibrations. His Tesla coils rendered useless now that his rotary joints were destabilizing. There was no way to search. Never had he felt more blind. Cold. Unsure… Scared.

A harsh blow sent him backwards. Proximal hinge joints disabled, and dorsal nodes locked tight, Kaon fell flat unable to recover. 

“No, wait please! I beg! I am alone—”

Another knock back. This time, energon could be felt dispelling from his lacerations.

“I’m alone! I mean no har—”

A knock back with a sharp edge. As if a heel dug into his chassis fan, twisting the soft alloy of that fan-blades and carving the board-backing inside. The pede didn’t leave as it held him down on the floor.

“As if I—Your feeble persuasion—Pathetic runt,” accusations shot at him. Patronizing him in an expert Vosian accent. Kaon took the only energy he had left and gripped the heel that bound him. Thanks to a small frame, he could lift his helm up high enough to touch his lips to the edge of their pede, kissing them from his submission. 

“Open my spark if you need to. I only want help. I’ll do anything. I’ll leave once I’m able! Please, stranger,” he bartered for his life overwhelmed from the panic already instilled. “My worth alive is well rewarded. Surely, you have considered the weight of my utility…” his helm fell back while his chassis fan clicked uselessly against their heel. In his rising panic, he was begging to vent before he stack overflowed.

Kaon was met with a silence before he felt himself leaving the ground. Sensory monitors offline, the most he was—was aware he was moving.


	2. Research Purposes Only

In heavy snowstorms, passage of time seemed endless. Pharma remembered working through nights like these under the dull fluorescent lights. Days spent on one patient, sometimes weeks, months, even years. Back then, he had a team. Three assistants under his tutelage with irreplaceable quality. Arguably the last of the unmatched medical bots out there. 

Now it was just him.

Alone, established deceased under the radar. Patients come by very little anymore since the facility was declared abandoned. Most only visiting to pass on. 

Skilled as Pharma was, it was nothing to fix them. The proud strokes to his ego hearing them call him “Primus-sent” or “miracle worker”. Many of them get sent on their way without fuss. If it does catch wind that Pharma was the one that saved them, no one would believe that. Society will paint them crazy. Maybe articles will pop up about “mysterious spark-ghost saving citizens” or some satirical comedy outlining how Pharma just never seems to leave.  
No matter.

Pharma was already working through another patient. No one new this time. Familiar face once he moved past all the prominent dents and case cracks on the soft alloy. The pitiful puppy of the DJD: what the jet fondly recognized him as. Famous for his rapturous expression over torture and a sad example of true Decepticonism. A basic stereotype that never measured up to truer terrors such as Sixshot or Shockwave.

Working servos dug deep inside his chassis, filing through his protomesh and alloy-flesh to the deepest inflicted injury. “Primus, what a fucking mess,” the aerial-bot spat out of odium. Lacerations ran deep within the torture-bot over his whole frame. Wiring misplaced, appendages substituted. On top of the injuries recently inflicted on him, there was evidence of repeated injury that wasn’t allowed space to heal before reopened. Before all of that was poor scabbing and healing of frame designation. 

Much like domestication, Kaon suffered total reworking. It was difficult to tell what could have been before had Pharma lacked the experience. His chassis was forcibly enlarged to accommodate the poorly sized electric-generators inside. They squeezed against his spark chamber- littering it with cracks. Pharma could only frown knowing those cracks bore testimony of unwanted deeds. 

The diagnostic kept piling errors, that the Aerialbot grew weary over the increasing workload. Distal, cranial, and ventral abuse stood prominent. Energon nearly diminished. Color fading 3 hex notches. Where does the list end?

Tired, Pharma turned away briefly to gather a precise analysis on the main computer. His optics narrowing while data climbed up the screen at a frightening pace. Stacking up to the 8th decimal what is fluctuating, what’s constant, what’s online, what went offline weeks ago. Due to Kaon’s incompetently managed frame change, compulsory systems were unavailable. Necessary data displayed blocks of blank space between piling errors, knocking more annoyance into Pharma.

“H... ello?” a weak voice croaked. “Is this…”

“No, you’re unfortunately still with us,” Pharma jabbed.

Kaon couldn’t see since his echolocation maps were disabled: Tesla coils forced shut down. His helm kept straight ahead.

“So... Hah, what’s the damage?” he joked dryly.

“Unimaginable,” Pharma loomed over his opened frame. “I hope Tarn has plenty of shanix in return for this.”

“Tarn? Oh, no. I ran away some time ago.”

A heavy pause between them that could illustrate Pharma's growing frustration.

“Ah, so you're worthless then?” Pharma held a servo on the cot Kaon laid on. He angled his arm to flip it over, but Kaon fought the restraints that bound his wrist. He fought out his servo to brush Pharma’s servo in hopes to stop him.

“Wait! Ta—Starscream! He has a reward for returning me back to Cybertron… And you know him well. He will pay millions for me out of spite. Revenge. I don’t care. There’s some worth to fixing me,” Kaon returned to begging.

“Return you back to the head Decepticon so you can resume your rampant crimes with the DJD? Even worse, with Starscream?” Pharma became less convinced that the cot started to lift. Kaon’s fan kicked on high while he tried to fight against the restraints and Pharma’s reluctance.

“No, no, no! Starscream hates me. He wouldn’t dare put me to work, he would have me jailed! Wouldn’t it entertain you to watch me suffer instead of dying so quickly?!” he chuckled nervously since he couldn’t believe his own lies.

Pleas falling on deaf audials, the table turned over and Kaon was sent flying onto the floor with the clatter of tools dropping all around him. Spark flying out of his chest and organs falling into a mess of his own alloy-flesh. 

“It would entertain me to watch you suffer in a container instead. Had you been a convincing liar, that is,” Pharma stood over the new mess that his horrendous body made.

Kaon laid flat with his own defeat. It’s what he deserves, truly. Laying in a humiliating position unmatched by the guilt that soon followed. It was part of his ill-performance in the DJD; unable to perform well under pressure.


	3. The Meaning of Peaceful Tyranny

All that could be heard was static. White noise precisely. Had it not been Kaon’s coils filling up the empty space. Tarn had recently made the judgement call to include Old World veteran, and notorious traitor, Deathsaurus into their ranks. 

Old as he was, he expected something horrendous. With his age and impressive career, Kaon had been jaded to expect the worse-of-the-worse since there could be no way anyone could step outside of the mold that Megatron so proudly created. Yet when he listened in, all he heard was a bot with more integrity in his voice than ¾ of Decepticons wished they could boast about.

“This is my second in command, Kaon. He handles our intelligence along with special negotiations,” Tarn held his clawed servo on the small of his dorsal plate, urging him forward with pride.

Kaon straightened himself and extended his servo towards the huge figure in front of him,” it’s a pleasure to be greeting you back with us.”

“The pleasure is mine,” a servo more massive than the one cradling his back grabbed around his offered one and some of his arm. Deathsaurus spoke with formality, however it was apparent that’s all it added up to be. “I was informed that you would be debriefing me on the situation.”

“Yes, I will,” Kaon searched through his items to pull out a datapad. Switching It on, he had it read back to him the topic lines to remind him of their shared objectives within his comm. “Per Megatron’s defection, we have been tracking his passage on the Lost Light for a sizable amount of time. We’ve conclude that, due to our low numbers, we are ill-prepared to plan any attack anytime soon. There are gaps in our information we wish to amass in our time with you and your forces.”

“What information do you wish to possess?” The commander considered his recourse.

“For now, we need exact forces. It would be a plus to also attain knowledge about their ranks and frame types, although not nearly as necessary. We also need to clarify some rumors about Megatron.”

“Rumors?” Deathsaurus bemused.

“Following the trial, there has been news he was forcibly weakened so he could be containable by the Lost Light. We don’t know what that means or if it stands true.”

Silence accompanied Kaon while the veteran stood in thought. Considering his options, and perhaps, his willingness.

“If it’s this intel you need, I would be remiss not to offer my own Second in Command,” there was the sound of a button being pushed. 

Not too soon after, steps could be heard down the hall. Colored with nonchalance and lack of urgency. A figure, half the size of Deathsaurus, stood near his arm: in place to be presented.

“You called, my Lord~,” he purred. His voice was laced with insouciance that almost made Kaon's spark ache.

“Kaon, this is Leozack. Whatever you find yourself needing, he will most likely possess. Now, Tarn, there are items I wish to discuss with you in private.”

Tarn removed his claws from Kaon’s back and dismissed himself. Not before leaving a small comm in his feed.

_If they try anything, you know what to do._

Leozack wrapped his claw around the hinge on Kaon’s upper arm and dragged him along as if they’d been amica endura this whole time. 

“I’ve had the pleasure of tuning into the conversation – hope you don’t mind – and I see we are needing some additional intel from within the ship itself~?” The strategy officer hummed down at Kaon sweetly.

"Uh-" Kaon stuttered, a little off guard by the sudden court down the hall.

Kaon couldn't ignore the difference of airs between his new companion and the veteran. In Leozack's playful nature, his bold AT Field hinted this unwavering confidence and prowess far beyond a SIC would normally possess. With that in mind, there was a need to be cautious. The torture-bot held his servos tight against his own dorsal case to match the mood.

“That’s correct. I’ve yet to devise a plan since I don’t know the value of your forces. I was hoping to convene with them and set out towards the end of the week. “

“That’s not needed,” he interjected. “I’ve sent out my source already. He should be returning by then.”

“Wait, who? Do you have the clearance? We’ve only just told you,” Kaon blurted, unused to this disorderly management.

“Clearance?!” Leozack laughed. “You’re cute, Kaon. I like you.” With a long, humored sigh he continued,” I have all the ‘clearance’ I need. You expect Deathsaurus to do anything? He’s pitiful. Always making us wash his servos clean while he sits on top of his little throne barking orders at us.”

Kaon was taken aback. Some sort of reproach was expected, but never of his own leader. “Leozack, I wouldn’t be speaking ill of Lord Deathsaurus—It looks bad and you’ll be no better than Star—”

“Oh please, Kaon. You are wounding me. You should see for yourself how his arrogance and personal vendettas nearly costed us everything we had. Conceivably, we had more right around the time Star Saber retired to his fanatics. Not like it mattered since all Deathsaurus cares about Is conquering. He parades around like he cares about his troops, but does he really~?” Leozack purred once again to Kaon which made him reconsider the tone of their partnership.

“I wouldn’t know… Since you’ve been here far beyond my senior, I trust your judgment. Even if they are… belligerent,” Kaon attempted to diffuse before someone heard them.

The SIC ran his digit over the top plating of Kaon’s arm in a soothing gesture. “I know it must be disparate moving from a competent team to this one. But, that's okay. I plan on fixing this tyrannical mess before our objective is through and you’re going to help me~” Soft lips kissed the top of Kaon’s helm.

The torture-bot felt at locked at the wrists as he was being tossed into a mess of monumental proportions.


	4. Repurposed

“aaAGH!” Kaon shot awake, feeling immediate recoil since his bound body only crashed back harsh against the metal table. His vents kicked on to cool himself down, but the faster they ran, the less anything cooled down. Panic washed any rational thoughts away while he struggled to kick on any of his apparitions out of his fear-response.

A slap met his helm that stopped his processor. 

“If you keep moving, I’m going to crush your spark chamber in your own chassis,” Pharma hissed at him, annoyed.

Kaon felt momentary release from his dream… Only for it to be replaced with the present fear of Pharma’s imagination. What was he to do with him? Last he remembered, his organs hugged the linoleum floor while energon dumped out of his body. 

“So, you’ve decided I can be useful?” he chirped.

“Don’t humor yourself. The most ‘utility’ to be offered is whatever amount of shanix the highest bidder on Cybertron is willing to barter with me,” Pharma removed himself to pick up the rest of Kaon off the table and back into his frame. “You’re worth more unspoiled than you could imagine.”

Kaon’s spark sunk out of the chamber. He had hoped there would be some hospitality left within Pharma, but he was a fool to think otherwise. His team did collectively ruin his life and sanity. Trashed Delphi into a husk of what it used to be. If only Pharma chose to kill him instead of prolonging this emotional torture. Kaon reached his servo out to caress the outline of the jet’s thigh standing close to the table.

“Pharma, I know we are at odd ends, but I can repay you. Anything. Even if you only gift me my helm and chassis,” again, begging for his life. The fighting transverses from guns to words, both of which he was neither proficient in.

Silence filled the space between them dense with tension. The torture-bot could feel Pharma staring daggers deep into him. After the pause, he said nothing during his work. Kaon felt hopelessness succumb him with each passing thought. Was he going to make it? If he did, what now? What was the point? Tarn is going to find him eventually, so why is he fighting fate? Maybe they already know and they’re just waiting? Questions kept adding up, actively diminishing whatever incentive he had left.

\---

“How long have you been blind?” silence finally broke.

“What?” Kaon asked, nervous to know the meaning.

“Answer the question.”

“I-I don’t remember exactly… Around 5 hundred vorns ago?”

“What happened to your optics? Why haven’t you repaired them?” the sound of Pharma typing something into his datapad. 

Kaon rolled his head to the side. He couldn’t recall the last time someone asked him these questions. In fact, the only bot that bothered asking him would be Lord Megatron during recruitment. Searching his repaired brain, he was desperate to recall the exact details of a trauma long forgotten.

“It was a gradual decline. Nearing the climax of the war, there was a growing demand of more domestic frame types. The Decepticon party was saturated with war frame types making the demand high for us. During this time, I took to conversion therapy per Lord Megatron’s orders. There had been many that underwent these sorts of treatments outside of the famous Elite Guard, so I had little concern for what it meant on the other side,” Kaon shifted to face towards where he thought Pharma was.

“Maybe we as Decepticons were habituated to the physical trauma of battle for conversion was unparalleled in the grief bestowed on me. It was—It was so _painful._ I immediately headed into rehabilitation to wear in my new frame.”

“I’m not asking as your psychiatrist. Keep your story relevant,” Pharma clicked his denta.

Kaon sighed,” okay, okay.”

“War was coming close. A few cycles into Simazi was when I was finally put to work. I’ve had my servoful of torture to provide intel for Soundwave, though around this time I wasn’t weeding for information,” he swallowed,” this time they were just throwing people onto me left and right. I don’t think I’ve ever left my alt-mode for whole cycles at a time with how many bots they were shuffling to send in for mental reworking. It didn’t matter who. Captured Autobots, disobedient Decepticons. At times it even felt like they were doing it _for fun._ “

“Whenever we took our leave, I finally found a break. I shifted back, but the Nemesis was jarringly dark. I thought that it was a possibility they had left me in here forgotten after so long. I scrambled to find light only to bump into someone. They cried and screamed, asking what happened to my face. Apparently, I had been bleeding out of my optic sockets. I couldn’t open my mouth before I was courted away to the Medibay for examination.”

“And?”

“The results were confusing. The conclusion was that I would need to be checked over a course of several tests. The final one determining that I had burnt the sensitive optic nerves. Burnt out so much that they were no longer there. I asked for treatment… And I was turned away.

There aren’t many doctors on the Nemesis and the only top mind to step foot on there was Shockwave. Who had already defected by now. I haven’t come across another doctor that was willing to work on me or possessed the skillset to tackle the issue, so I’ve learned to live without.”

A servo gripped the underside of his cheek guards, tilting his head up while something warm, like a light, shined against his empty sockets. 

“You ensure nothing in my life is easy, don’t you?” Pharma commented bland. “Very well, that’s all I needed from you.”

“So, wait, why did you want to know?!” Kaon tried to capture Pharma before he was left in the dark.

The jet said nothing as his steps fell by the increment of distance: soon gone with the hiss of the door closing shut.


End file.
